The ugly veteran squinted at the ruins. "I don't much like a plan that depends on bandits doing what we expect. You see the trail up around the fallen tower? We could get the horses in over that rubble, but if the scum have any decent archers, we're going to take a beating doing it. If we want to approach behind concealment, we'll need to move in on foot."

"I can deal with moving on foot, makes it easier for me to reload and fire." Vee said, patting the butt of his crossbow. "I have two ideas, since we are still going to be outnumbered. We can always use a diversion so one of the riders, the best with the horses but the worst with a weapon can stay with the animals. I dont think bandits can tell by sound if a thundering squad of horses have men or not on them," he turned a vial of white powder, magnesium lifted from old Skreep back in Ganse, "I think I have a way to signal for the diversion if we need it."

"But back to our problem at hand. We are inferior in number, but superior in discipline and likely fighting spirit. That has worked in my favor more than once. A frontal attack might work, but there is too much of a chance of failure, and their will be too many dead on our side that way, I'd like to find out if Dujek and his little lizard friend have found out anything, or if Kadarin has a scrying spell..." Vee scowled. There were too many variables at the moment.

(OOC - felt like posting something, but still trying to work out a plan of attack, Vee would like to meet up with the mages before concrete plans are laid, and look into some quick recon if possible.)

"If you want to scout, I can facilitate that by making you unseen. I'm pretty sure it will last long enough for you to get a good look.It does not, however, make you silent. Otherwise I have no spells that allow for far seeing. Perhaps I"ll remedy that next time we are in a large enough town..."

<ooc - pretty sure invisibilty will last a good long while until Vee does something to dispel it....>

Shielded by the charm of invisibility, Vee nimbly scrambled up the sloping ground toward Sivenwell. Arriving at the ruined fortress' slighted walls, he could see into the crumbling structure. The tottering stonework of the curtain wall had massive rents in it, where time and the elements were slowly driving the ruins back into the ground.

The obvious vulnerabilities of the fortress had been shoddily addressed, with ramshackle barricades blocking the larger holes in the wall. It was clear that the fort's slipshod defenses wouldn't delay their approach more than a few moments. On one of the towers, three bow-armed mercenaries kept watch, but were obviously more interested in bowls of gruel they had just been brought. The slatternly camp follower that had served them stood leaning against the parapet, a longing expression on her features as she gazed at the horizion. She seemed more likely to spot approaching foes than any of the mercenaries.

In the camp, others were more active. Mercenaries shouted and argued as they drove camp followers and orc women to pack up their gear. Apparently, the bandits would be leaving soon.

His scouting complete, Vee returned to where the Nimzians and his fellows of the AuR awaited. "They seem to be getting ready to leave, there are some defenses, but nothing major, plenty of holes in the old walls. Three sentries kind of high up, armed with regular bows. Not all of the people in the camp are warriors, I saw some orcettes breaking camp while the others made alot of noise."

"I think a two prong attack would give us an advantage, the mages and I can see about taking care of the sentries and taking down the barricade and follow the soldiers in. Our armor is a bit...thin." Vee said, taking a moment to draw out the walls and defences in the sand with a crossbow bolt. Once inside, we can secure the hostages if you fine lads, " Vee nodded to the Nimzian Lancers, "Can put the steel to the rest of the bandits, with as much help as we can spare."

"Do it," Vee said. From what he knew of the spell, it would fail as soon as he broke it's veil by attacking someone. But being invisible would let him get close enough that the archers would be unable to use their main advantage; a ranged attack. "I will take out the archers, you guys just dont dawdle, once they are down I will see what I can do with this old girl," he said patting the butt of his crossbow.

(OOC: After made Invisible Vee will make for the archer's position quickly as caution allows. Once there he will attempt a sneak attack on the lead archer, likely a backstab or coupe-d'grace killing attack.)

His stealthy approach unnoticed, Vee quickly reached the fortress' crumbling watchtower. The brigands' jury-rigged ladder gave him a few moments unease, as it bent and shifted beneath his weight, but he made it to the top without drawing the men's attention.

The brigands' sloth was worse than he had realized: Two of the "sentries" were engrossed in a game of knucklebones, while the third was clumsily groping the wench that had brought their breakfast. Their bows lay unheeded to one side, while several emptied bottles of cheap grappa lay nearby.

Vee smiled to himself, the wench wasnt a sight to see, but after enough grappa ugly washes away and a good snogging is a good snogging. This invisible thing was certainly useful and at times, quite entertaining. Dagger's drawn, Vee picked his mark. The snogger would likely be the slowest to react, so he picked the larger of the two men tossing dice. Before he could strike through, he wanted a distraction. The rogue eyes the bottles of grappa and using his toe, nudged one until it fell off the edge of the platform. The bottle smashed to pieces when it hit the ground.

The 'sentry' never saw the face of the man who killed him, only a flash of steel as the dagger split him from ear to ear, spewing blood all over himself and his dicing companion. Vee raised his crossbow with one hand, the weapon pointed point blank at the dead gambler's companion. He pulled the trigger.

"He's in! Have at them!" cried the lance commander, as he spurred his mount onto the rough trail to the fort. The cavalry surged forward, reaching the barricaded entrance in moments.

At the bandits' jury-rigged "gate", Sergeant Greydahl and one of the "double riders" leapt from their saddles. Kicking, slashing and cursing, the veterans smashed down part of the barricade, while their lance-armed allies waited impatiently. Hauling at the sharpened wooden stakes meant to prevent horses from charging into the barrier, the double-rider staggered as two crossbow bolts pierced him, but he stayed at his task.

Despite the resistance, the Nimzian riders were in! Bandits and hangers-on fled helter-skelter, seeking weapons or refuge as the vengeful sons of Nimz swept through their camp like a flash flood. Pockets of resistance formed behind plundered furniture or collapsing tents, but the mercenaries had been taken by surprise.

Meanwhile, in the watchtower, Vee gutted one bandit as the surprised reaver reached for his weapon, but the last of the "sentries" managed to grab a rusty mace, parrying Vee's attack with panicked energy. Vee was confident the half-dressed man's unskilled defense wouldn't last long.

That's when the woman drew a dirk from among her small-clothes and joined the fight.

His features spattered with the brigands’ blood, Vee radiated menace. Drawing back Red Hatchet’s gore-encrusted weapon, he leveled his dagger at the slattern and her half-dressed “paramour”. “I could kill you both, but I’ve no interest in hurting a lady. Surrender, or your lives will be forfeit!”

The half-dressed “sentry” lowered his weapon, asking “Our lives will be spared?” but the woman’s eyes narrowed with thought as she tried to discern whether the strange assassin’s offer could be trusted.

“Don’t trust him, ducky,” she whispered to her lover.

Below them, horsemen pounded up the trail to the ruined fortress. Glancing down, Vee’s voice grew lower and, if possible, even more ominous. “Your time’s almost up. Drop your weapons; you won’t get another chance.”

His voice cracking along with his nerve, the mercenary spoke up. “On… Only if you let Evidie go!”

“I don’t care to see lasses hanged; I’d rather see her alive than dead with the others,” responded the adventurer, leading his foe to hand over his battered mace.

Less trusting of a stranger’s word, Evidie swiftly swung over the ruined outer parapet and clambered down the fort’s rough masonry.

"Okay, thats our queue boys. Delsordo - you and you two," Kadarin pointed to two of the Orcs, "Stay close to myself and Mouse. Czolba - you move ahead with the rest of you. Feel free to handle the bandits as you see fit. Holler if you need help."

Vee shook the vial of magnesium powder out of his vest pocket and dabbed some on the end of his finger. With a deft motion, thinking of Dujek's gut monster gestures, he smeared some of the powder on the surrendered brigand's forehead. He looked the man in the eyes. "You'll forgive me if I dont trust you, the sigil I just put on your head will explode if you try to pick up a weapon and attack anyone until I personally remove it." Vee cocked his crossbow and dropped a fresh bolt in after putting the vial back into his vest. "I wouldn't suggest trying to rub it off either. If you break any of the lines, the whole thing goes pop, your head too. Sit down and be a good boy and everybody has a nice day."

Vee raised the crossbow and assessed the situation on the ground.

(OOC - bluff check on the 'magic mark'. He doesnt trust the mercenary long enough to walk him off of the tower, or to tie him up while his friends are fighting below. He is going to look for a target below, but will keep checking on the mercenary, a cold grin on his face. - if the merc asks, Vee responds with exploding heads make for an interesting sight and he would hate to miss it.)

Dujek joined in the charge on the doors, though his horse tried to buck him at every turn. Dismounting he managed to spook the beast again, and it charged back out of the gate.

"We need to find him, don't we. And what notes he has as well, what do you think Koschei?"Yes, that's what we need. Kill the dabbler, take his works, fire to cleanse the taint and cast shadows, through which we'll flee. Yes, this is well.Grinning, sickly for his disfigurement made emotion hard, Dujek ducked into the doorway, following Koschei and it's weird knowledge into the depths of the castle, hunting down his fellow necromancer while the battle raged in the courtyard.

As Vee drew the ominous sigil on the timorous brigand's forehead, fear and scepticism battled on the man's features. He doubted the stranger's powers, but the man's accustomed cowardice held the upper hand for the moment.

Below the tower, the privileged cavalrymen of Nimz tasted the first real resistance to their assault. Brigands that had flown in panic began to join ranks with the handful of veteran sellswords that had kept their heads. As Vee watched, one of the cavalryment was dragged off his horse, joining bloodstained bandit corpses in the cold fraternity of the dead. A mount crashed into one of the courtyard's drooping tents, crying in pain as crossbow bolts tore into it.

The city men held the upper hand, but this would be no bloodless victory. Death watched this battle, reaching out to claim the warriors with random cruelty.

Meanwhile, Dujek, Kadarin, and the others reached the keep's massive front doors. A badly-made barrier of green wood, it had clearly been replaced recently. Rough-hewn planks hung from new hinges, and the whole thing had been painted with symbols of warding and protection, the sort of folk magic that children in the foothills of the Monoliths trusted to keep evil at bay. Dujek sneered at such feeble charms, good for little more than discouraging bog-sprites to sup elsewhere.

Vee kicked the bows off of the tower top, and the ladder as well, there was no safe way down off of the tower now. He looked at the mercenary, "Touch it and you'll be feeding the crows. I'll come back for you later." Leaving the man unarmed, Vee unslung his whip and struck. The leather thong wrapped around one of the tower's exposed wooden supports. He hopped off of the platform and swung in a fast arc. Like the pendulum in a clock he swung quickly down and as he came close to the ground he flicked the whip, loosening the end.

The rogue rolled to his feet, whip in one hand and his dagger in the other. The rogue bore down on one of the veteran mercenaries, a bulldog of a man with a battered sword and a equally battered face. Vee cracked the whip towards the man, something that even most hardened soldiers will flinch away from, his swing was poor but the mercenary swung wildly to protect himself. The end result, the whip snared his sword by the quillions, and the rogue jerked the weapon from the man's gauntleted grasp. Seeing one of the their leaders disarmed, three of the greener sellswords panicked and broke ranks!

"Forward the lances!" Vee shouted, slinging the sword free of the whip. Moruz would be proud if he could have seen them!

Kadarin noted the door only briefly before again calling forth his magics. "Moroth, step close - I grant you the powers of a great Chieftan!" and with that, his magic enlarged the orc to nearly twice as tall (+80%!).

With a series of powerful kicks, the huge orc battered open the portal to expose the keep's great hall. Gloomy light sifted in from cracks in the masonry, revealing trestle tables laden with half-eaten food, a dozen unkempt cots, and heaps of debris cluttering the area. The garish banner of the treacherous would-be warlord Haavik virtually glowed on the hall's back wall, flanked by a pair of decrepit doors.

From behind the hall's massive head table, a partially armored man approached, his half-buckled breastplate emblazoned with glyphs of dark necromantic portent. In one hand, the approaching figure held a grim-looking mace, while the other clutched an unwholesome symbol of the insectoid daemon-god Scarnach, patron of dark rebirth. His handsome face wore an expression of sinister delight. "When they told me to hold the fort, I thought it was just an expression!"

On the left, eight anmated corpses shuffled down a staircase to join their dark priest, hundreds of black insects scuttling over their pallid flesh. The unclad bodies were those of women, once beautiful, but now hideous in undeath.

Chaos in the CourtyardThe lances were largely gone as cavalrymen rampaged through the encampment, drawing their curved swords to ride down anyone too slow to find cover. Sow-like orc females and camp followers joined mercenary scum in death as the slashing blades paid the notorious band back for their treacheries.

The fighting in the courtyard grew more intense, as the Nimzian troops crushed one pocket of resistance. Heartened as Vee easily disarmed one of their chief foes, they drove forward, their dismayed enemies fleeing and dying. Crossbow bolts whistled through the air as some of the bandits took aim at onrushing horsemen, only to face their vengeful steel moments later.

These brigands were nothing like the disciplined killers that had fought under War Leader Haavik's banner. Most were nothing more than bandits posing under borrowed "glories". Most, but not all: Here and there, groups of brigands survived, forming ranks with bloodthirsty mercenaries that had once served under their perfidious war leader. These men were not like the others: They were veterans of a hard school, ruthless killing machines afraid of nothing.

Watching their allies bleeding away, one group of brigands rushed at the Nimzian horsemen circling them. Their infamous sergeant was instantly recognizable, a noseless, scarred figure with one eye: "Bearbaiter". This arrogant killer had once "dueled" a stolen circus bear in Nimz's Square of Towers; only luck had preserved his life. His ravaged nose replaced with a nose of painted tin, Bearbaiter was nearly as hideous as he was bloodthirsty. His elven-made armor and swift blade turned the lance of one charging lancer as he led his ragtag force forward.

In seconds, two more riders were unhorsed, desperately fighting to keep the brigands from finishing them off.

Ducking behind the shattered remnants of the door Dujek reached into his bag, drawing out two flasks of alchohol. Popping the caps off of them the bagan stuffing wads of cloth down the necks."Get a branch from the fire. NOW."

OOC: Preparing 2 molotovs for next round (and round after...) when Koschei gets back with a piece of fire...

Logged

For the love of meat, shut up! No one wants to hear your emo character background! My hands are literally melting away, and I'm complaining less than you!—K'seliss, Goblins

Blood filled the air, mixed with shouts and the clang and clank of steel. Vee snared the horse of one of the fallen lancers, catching the animals by the reins. He patted it on the neck as best he could to calm the animal. It always sounded easy in the epics when the warrior or knight mounted his dashing steed. Vee grabbed a handful or mane and the horn of the saddle and jerked himself up onto the animal. It wasnt Nimzian bloodstock, but it was fair enough. He dug his heels into the beast's ribs and turned it back towards the fray.

Bearbaiter had rallied some of the mercenaries, and in turn had managed to drop two of the Lancers, not good for the Sons of Nimz, but Vee wasnt about to let a sorry piece of offal like bearbaiter break his allies. 'Let's put these louts running, fight only those foolish enough to stand their ground!' Vee shouted as he crossed the courtyard. He unslung his whip and cracked it once for effect over the heads of the mercenaries before snapping it at Bearbaiter. (roll roll) The end of the weapon snared the warrior beautifully, denying him even a token chance to hack at the length of braided leather. Vee hauled, but Bearbaiter pulled the harder and the rogue lost his grip on the handle. He swore as the whip came free.

"Mercenary slime! Give that back!" Vee spurred the horse to a hard lunge directly into the Bearbaiter and his ragtag warriors. Vee readied his battered axe...

Kadarin cursed, though unheard by all, thanks to the blanket of silence that enveloped him and his companions. Unable to direct them, he had to make a quick decision. Foward or back? Though the priest's mace could break him in half, Kadarin ran towards the dark priest, but tried to put the priest between him and the undead. A well placed web spell would make it difficult for the cleric to cast or fight. He held his staff ready, though it seemed a feeble implement.

Czolba looked towards the dark priest and the shuffling corpses. Run? he thought for a moment, Not with a loaded crossbow, and not in front of these green-skinned freaks! Decision made, he took a bead on the dark priest and fired.

Mouse stuck close to Kadarin, drawing a small dagger he had found on one of the bodies at the Monestary, following him in what seemed an ill-considered move.

Moroth, full of vigour and enjoying the power his greatly increased form held, had some of his ardour cooled by the chiling figure before him. The preist, however, had wasted time with prayer to his dark godling, and the sudden silence meant little to the orc. Weapon in hand, he released a silent roar and charged headlong towards the priest.

Delsordo ran Kadarin, wondering if the idiot mage would get him killed this time, or worse, Mouse. The little one had bonded well with the scarred warrior and their fireside 'chats' had been a thing to see. He would defend the little one to the death, and if that meant breaking the armored cleric's back, so be it.

And not to be outdone by a scrawny human, the remaining orcs charged headlong into battle, the press of numbers forcing them towards the shambling dead.

<ooc Why am I reminded of the charge of the light brigade here And yes, I am aware of the friendly fire possibilities... /ooc>